


Avon, my Avon

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4831178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Vanessa Mullen.</p><p>After Blake's clone is killed on Gauda Prime, Avon escapes to the world the clone came from, where he is nursed to health by Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avon, my Avon

**Author's Note:**

> Previously published in 'Fire and Ice 3'.
> 
> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).

_I_ _'ve watched you raving for three days now. You can learn a lot about a man when he's delirious, particularly when that man is Kerr Avon. I've got a fair idea now of what happened on Gauda Prime - it's never far from your mind._

      It seems to me that the memories are destroying you as much as your injuries. I've tended the physical wounds. I've cleaned sores, treated the fever with my limited supply of antibiotics, and mopped up after you when you've vomited, but it's not enough. I've covered you when you shivered, sponged you down when you sweated - I know your body more intimately than any lover - but it still isn't enough. The madness will win unless I can reach you through it. But every time you hear my voice, you shy away in fear. Now, at last, I've pieced enough together from the delirium to know why.

      This attempt will either drive you over the edge completely or help you to sanity. I don't know which. But I no longer have any option but to try. I take you by the shoulders and hold you hard, forcing you to look me in the face, allowing you no escape.

"Avon," _I command you._  "Look at me!"

       _"_ Blake _," you murmur, and try to twist away._

"Look at me," _I command again._  "I'm here. I'm alive. You didn't kill me."

       _Something seems to register for a moment, and then it's gone again. "_ I killed you _," you insist._

       _I slap your face hard._ "Is that the touch of a dead man?"  _I demand_. "The man you killed wasn't me."

       _You burst out coughing. The fever has broken now, but it has left you very weak. Your next question shows signs of sanity, though. "_ Who was he then _," you ask._

"A clone,"  _I reply._ "Servalan made a clone of myself several years ago. It was him that you shot."

       _You burst out laughing, a wild irrational laugh that I don't like the sound of. "_ A clone! Only a clone _," you say. Then I see the tears forming in your eyes, and I finally know that you will recover - you haven't allowed yourself to cry until now. I hold you in my arms, and you allow it, resting your head heavily on my shoulder. Perhaps I'm crying a little myself - I loved the man who died on Gauda Prime._

_I loved him, he was my brother. I loved him, but not the way I am beginning to love you. Perhaps I've simply been alone too long, or perhaps I have become too close to you while trying to preserve your life. I don't know. All I do know, is that I am beginning to fear your recovery. Will you let me hold you like this when you are fit and well once more?_

_Enough of such thoughts. My immediate problem is to get some food into you. How long is it since you ate? I've only been able to get fluids into you until now, and you must have been at least five days getting here. One thing is certain - the ship had the return course set into the autopilot, or you would never have made it here. I reach for one of the foodpaks that I've piled beside your bed._

"Do you feel up to eating anything?"  _I ask._

_You reach out a hand to pick up the top pak, and I am struck by how pale the hand is. The flesh between the bones and tendons seems almost translucent. You look listlessly at the label - beef stew._

"I can heat it up," _I say._ "I've got a portable heater."   _These foodpaks are the best of the supplies I have here. There's concentrates aplenty, but you need something to tempt you to eat, something with more flavour than concentrates. When this factory was abandoned, I don't know, but they must have intended to return. They left supplies of every kind, and so far, the stocks haven't run out._

"Maybe," _you say._

_I take that as consent, and heat the pack up anyway. It smells good when I remove the top. I don't know how they preserved these foods, but it certainly seems to have worked well._

"Here, try some,"  _I encourage._ "I can help you."

 _You grab the spoon out of my hand._ "I can feed myself,"  _you snarl. Is this the old Avon beginning to return?_

_You have difficulty all the same though. I stick some pillows behind you, to help you sit up. You manage to use the spoon, but your hand shakes as you eat. You eat most of the stew, but half an hour later, you are sick. My fault - I should have found something less rich. I was so desperate to see some good food inside you that I tried to move too far too fast._

_I clean you up once more, and change the sheets. It's harder than when I've done this on previous days. Now, you're aware of me. You hate being helpless, I can see that in your eyes. To your credit though, you don't try to hinder me. You let me roll you over so that I can change the sheet under you. Afterwards, you thank me - which surprises me._

"That's all right,"  _I say._ "I'd do the same for anyone."   _I pour you a glass of water from the jug. You'll need it to replace the fluid you've lost. I help you drink it, and then we sit in silence. I don't really know what to say to you._

"Blake," _you ask,_ "how did I get here?"   _You smile wryly for a moment._ "And where is here in any case?"

_I consider the question carefully. I don't know all the answers myself, but I do my best._

"You came here on my ship. I don't know how you got on board, but given the condition you were in, you must have had help. Whether that was from some of our people or a Federation sympathizer, I don't know. The autopilot was preset for here - Roj was intending to come and pick me up in another week or two."

_There's a question on your face, you don't seem to have the strength to ask it out loud."_

      "Roj? My clone. We share the same name. Servalan had the clonemasters create him several years ago in an attempt to gain Imipak for herself. You've been on this world before, although I'm not surprised you don't remember it."

       _That still leaves a lot of questions unanswered, but I think you're too tired to take in too much at once. I lean over you, resting a hand lightly on your shoulder._ "Sleep now. I'll tell you more tomorrow."   _You don't want to sleep, that much is obvious. You are weak though, and I insist._ "You're alive. I'm alive. That's all that really matters. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."   _You finally seem to accept that and relax against the pillows. I watch you until your breathing is even. I'm tired myself, but I want to be sure you are all right before I rest myself. When you are peacefully asleep you look different somehow - fragile, more vulnerable. Different from how you were before. Then your dreams tossed you so many ways. Now, you are finally relaxed. The fever has left you pale. I look at your dark eyelashes resting against the white of your face, and know that I want to kiss those closed eyelids. I settle instead for running a finger lightly along your cheekbone. A finger that inevitably ends up touching your lips. I hesitate, then brush my lips against yours. The merest touch, a feather-light caress. This is neither the time nor the place to ask for more._

_The next day, you seem somewhat improved. I try you on some of the more basic foods. This time you manage to keep your meal down, for which I am greatly relieved. The colour is slowly returning to your face, and there's an alertness that wasn't there yesterday. I guess you're well enough for me to answer some more of your questions._

"What are you doing here?" _you ask._ "Orac thought you were on Gauda Prime _."_

"So I was,"  _I reply._ "Someone died. I needed time on my own to think, to remember her."

       _You snort in derision, then add more gently,_ "Jenna?"

      "Yes,"  _I say._ "She died in space, running the blockade to Gauda Prime. There's a cairn of stones outside. I know it's a useless gesture - she isn't buried there. But I add a stone every day. It helps me to remember."

       _You aren't impressed, but then I didn't think you would be. Cynicism is supposed to be your middle name._

"Why this particular world?"  _you ask._

"Why not?" _I reply._ "I found Roj here, or rather one of my followers did. It's a useful place for a quiet retreat. Roj was going to come back and pick me up after a month. It's lucky for me that you came. I might have been stuck here forever otherwise."   _The thought is not a pleasant one. Being alone for a few weeks is one thing. Being alone for a lifetime is another matter entirely. You would never believe how glad I am to have your company. I stop and ask myself for a moment: do I feel that I love you just because I am alone and want company? I think it is more than that, and yet how can I judge my own feelings? In a few days when you're feeling better, I'll talk about it with you. Firstly though, I must get you well._

_In the next few days, you make good progress. I no longer fear for your health. By the time you are on your feet, I have got to know you better. By turns, you are casual and flippant, acid and sarcastic. I find it difficult to handle some of your moods. I want to be gentle with you, make you aware of what I feel, but you're forever digging, probing, trying to find that which will irritate me. Have the years made you so bitter? Yet, sometimes, when I see the light of battle in your eyes, you seem to me more beautiful and desirable than ever._

_It's a fine sunny day when I convince you to take your first walk outside. I can see all the way to the horizon across the open grasslands. The sky is blue, and some species of bird is warbling overhead. I don't know the proper names of anything that lives here, although I've given them all names of my own. That bird's a blue warbler. All right, so it's a silly name, but I know what it refers to. I don't mention the bird to you, somehow I think you'd only laugh at my amateur interest in ornithology._

_I deliberately lead you to a small knoll just beyond the southern gate of the factory compound. It's an oddity in the local landscape - everything else is flat. I walk up the knoll without saying anything, and you follow me - a little out of breath perhaps, but the climb isn't beyond you. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't feel you were up to it._

"So, that's your cairn?" _you say thoughtfully when we reach the top._

_I nod._

_You say nothing, but you pick up a stone from nearby and place it on top of the pile. That touches me, and gives me strength to say what I might not have been able to say otherwise._ "When she died, I thought I'd never be able to love again..." _I hesitate, and you pick up on that instantly._

"But?"  _you demand._

 _I swallow._ "I love you, Avon." _There, I've said it._

"I see,"  _you say guardedly._  "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

       _I reach out for you._ "This," _I say, wanting to gather you in for a kiss._

 _You slap my hand away, cold fury in your eyes._ "Don't ever do that again!"  _you hiss._

"I'm sorry,"  _I plead. But it's no use. You stalk off down the slope, leaving me standing alone by the cairn. There seems little point in following. I sit on the grass by the cairn. Sometimes when I sit here, I can imagine that she is still with me. I wonder what she would say to me now? I like to think that she would want me to find love again. I can't see her face now though, I can only see yours. I see the disgust on your features, and know that I will never feel the same about this place again. I wish I hadn't brought you here. This was always my place to sit and think in peace. Now the peace has gone. I sit and stare at the horizon for an hour or more until clouds start to build up. It will rain soon. I see little point in getting wet, so I walk slowly back indoors._

_I neither seek you out, nor deliberately avoid you. We're the only two people here. We need each other's company. It seems simplest to pretend that nothing ever happened. Apparently you've decided the same thing, because when I join you for a meal, all you mention is the condition of the spaceship._

_The ship's a problem. The autopilot made a pretty poor job when landing you here. You were all right, the crash systems protected you, but the ship needs some serious repair work. There's a fair bit of equipment around here that we can use: welding tools, circuit tracers and so forth. The hull wasn't breached as far as I can tell, but some of the internal systems are a bit smashed up._

"We ought to be able to make a start tomorrow," _you comment._

 _Ah, that brings us to the next problem. You aren't going to like this._ "You're going to have to do most of the repairs yourself," _I say._

 _You look at me in astonishment._ "Whatever for? Have you forgotten how to jury rig a circuit board, or is this just some complex scheme to keep me stranded here with you?"

       _I go hot under the collar, but keep my temper._ "Nothing like that,"  _I reply._ "Shortly after Star One was destroyed, I had a run in with the Federation. I don't know exactly what they did, but it caused a lot of memory loss. There's a fair bit of technical stuff that I'm having to relearn from scratch. That isn't easy you know."

      "How much else have you forgotten?"  _you demand._

"A lot,"  _I answer._ "I try to remember, but there are whole areas that are blanks. I can't recall faces. I try to remember what Cally looked like, and there's nothing there, just a blank."

      "That's tough," _you say. But you mean it sympathetically rather than sarcastically. I toy briefly with the idea of trying to play on your sympathies, but reject it. Not only would it be unethical, but I don't think it would work in any case._

 _I change the subject._ "I'll be glad to get away from this place."   _It isn't totally a lie. There are things I will miss here, but being alone with you is going to be a strain from now on._

 _You smile slightly._ "For once, we are in agreement."

 

       _The next day we start repairs on the ship. The work helps to take my mind off things, which is some relief at least. It's not quite so difficult as I had feared. I can manage some technical jobs - others are totally beyond me. I stick to the tasks I can handle, and leave you to deal with the rest. Every now and then you call me over to do something on the console you are working on. Screwdriver work. I get to fix the mechanical problems while you test the computer functions. I get the distinct impression that you are enjoying ordering me around, and I don't like it._

 _The day after that is even worse. It's a hot day, and even inside the ship with its insulation, I can feel some of the heat. You're obviously enjoying yourself, buried in what you're doing. I'm getting bored. Most of the simple mechanical tasks have been done now. I sit in front of the navigation console and idly flick some of the switches, trying to call up a display. You stick your head out from under a mass of circuit boards._ "Do you mind?"  _you say icily._ "You're causing interference on the relays."

       _I'm damned if I'm going to say sorry. I mutter something under my breath to relieve my feelings._

      "Why don't you go and fix the outside sensors?" _you ask._

"I've already done that."

"Well you'd better do it again. The short range scanner isn't registering properly."

      "How do know it isn't a fault on the console?" _I ask._ "Maybe you missed something."

      "Just do it, Blake."

       _I manage to restrain myself from the urge to kick your teeth in. I venture out into the heat once more to examine the sensor array. I'm trying to recall why I ever found you attractive. No, wrong question. You're still attractive, but I don't want to kiss you any more, I want to screw the living daylights out of you. The sensor looks all right. I run a circuit probe over the connections. Damn! You were right. There's a broken circuit on the short range scanner. I'd not bothered to check it after I'd fixed it. Can't you ever be wrong, you infuriating bastard? I flux the metal and restore the connection, then I test it again. You're not going to catch me out twice. It checks out. I go back inside._

"Try it now,"  _I say shortly._

 _You tap a short command into the keyboard and are rewarded by a string of figures on the monitor._ "Better. Next time, concentrate on what you're doing in the first place."

      "You're not the one trying to work out there," _I protest._ "You try concentrating in that heat."

      "I don't need to," _you say._ "As I'm the only one capable of rational thought around here, I get to work in the shade."

       _I'm furious._  "There's no need to treat me like an idiot,"  _I say tersely._ "There's a difference between ignorance and idiocy. Not that you'd know anything about it. You may be rational, but it's a moot point as to whether you're human or not."

       _Infuriatingly, you smile at that._ "I was wondering when you'd return to normal,"  _you say._

"Just what's that supposed to mean?"  _I demand._

"I was beginning to think that the Federation had destroyed your nerve as well as your memory. Mildness doesn't suit you."

       _Mildness?_ "Have I changed that much?" _I ask._

 _You raise an eyebrow._  "It's been like living with a stranger."

       _I freeze in momentary shock. Were things really that bad on the Liberator? Arguments all the time? I don't know._

 _I'm hot and tired, fed up, and I'm hungry._ "I'm going to get a shower and a bite to eat,"  _I say, without bothering to consult you first._

 _You stretch out your arms and arch your back. Okay, I know you've been working in cramped conditions, but I wish you wouldn't do that. It's very distracting._ "Good idea,"  _you say._

 _We walk back to the factory together. I raise the subject of where we should go when we leave here. You want to head out somewhere quiet and safe, as far from the Federation as possible. A couple of days ago I might have agreed with you, tried to share your viewpoint. Now, I hold my own, insisting that we try and join forces with other rebels. You argue like mad, debate every point I make, but you seem to take it for granted that we'll stay together. I have to keep on my toes though. You have a devious line in discussion. I need to stay mentally alert to try and pick holes in your hypotheses_. _You really are a cynic aren't you? How much of that is real though, and how much is sham? I think at least half of what you are saying is just intended to wind me up. So be it. I intend to give as good as I get._

_I go off to see what delights are worth salvaging from the food stores today, while you take first grab at the shower. I dig out some packets of dehydrated soup, and a tube of soya concentrate. Not exactly high cuisine, but I'm used to it._

_When I come back, I notice that you've laid out some clean clothes on the bed. Well, clean overalls at any rate. That's all there is to choose from here. I pass an idle moment trying to visualise you in different clothes. What would you look best in? What would you wear if you had the choice of anything you liked? What would I like to see you in if I could choose? I hear a movement behind me and turn around. I feel a sharp stab of anger. You stand there before me wearing nothing at all, and looking totally unconcerned about it. Your hair is still damp from the shower, but your body hair is a light halo around you, presumably the result of a vigorous towelling. I can still see the marks of recent injuries on you, but they don't detract from the grace of the way you carry yourself, nor from your slender symmetry. Your genitals hang between your legs, limp, but exquisite. It's too much. You didn't have to do this to me._

"You bastard!" _I say furiously._

 _You actually have the gall to look surprised._ "What have I done this time?"  _you ask._

"You know how I feel about you," _I shout._ "There's no call for you to taunt me like this."

       _You laugh._ "That ridiculous fancy? I thought that was one of your less subtle attempts at manipulation."

 _That's it! I've had enough. I slam you back hard against the wall._ "You can call me an idiot,"  _I say furiously._ "You can mock everything that I believe in. But don't you dare try to tell me what I feel." _I force my lips on yours, kissing you hard, with no regard for your feelings at all. My right hand slides down behind, to squeeze the firm, hard flesh of your buttocks. How I have wanted to do this! It's every bit as good as I dreamed. I close my eyes, feeling nothing but the taste of your lips, knowing nothing but the rising desire inside me. I want you, Avon._

_Abruptly I release you and step back. How can I reconcile this with my conscience? This is not what I was taught. Desire is not wrong; but you are still weak, not fully recovered from your illness. To force myself on you when you cannot resist - that wouldn't be right._

_I look at you, and I can see the stunned surprise in your eyes, hear the ragged tenor of your breathing. What are you, my tormentor or my victim?_

      "So,"  _you say sarcastically,_ "what next? Another assault upon my honour?"

       _I'm not sure which way to react. If I apologise as my instinct tells me to do, you'll never let me live it down. It seems to me that you are more at ease with me when I adopt your own antagonistic attitude. This is a game of survival, and I'm still learning the rules. I rest a hand on the wall on either side of your shoulders, making it difficult for you to get away._

"It doesn't have to be like that,"  _I say softly. I bring my head close to yours, and slowly touch your lips with the tip of my tongue. You make a sudden move to bite it, but you aren't quite quick enough._ "Too slow, Avon,"  _I chide you. Then I know blinding pain, as you knee me in the groin. I stagger back, clutching myself. From such pleasure to such acute pain in a single instant._ "Avon!"  _I gasp._

 _You stare at me, without any apparent emotion. I collapse on the bed, feeling nauseous from the pain._ "I wouldn't have hurt you," _I protest._

 _Your hand shoots out to tangle in my hair._ "See how you like it," _you mutter. Your mouth crushes mine. Your tongue forces its way in while I am still gasping for breath. I yield to you, letting you plunder where you will. I don't want to give you this round, but my body is the traitor. In spite of the pain I still feel, I respond to you, returning your kiss, first caressing your lips with my tongue, then sucking your tongue deeper into my mouth. After a minute or so, you release me, and look at me thoughtfully. I look back, not quite daring to say anything. This is a moment of truth between us. I reach out a hand very slowly and carefully to touch your penis. Slowly firming even as I look, it says what you will never say in words: you want me too. I stroke the skin gently, feeling its silken texture, running a finger around the tip and the flared rim._

"Move over," _you say roughly._

_I move carefully to give you room to lie down beside me, never taking my eyes off you. Then, I throw caution to the winds and envelop you in my arms. I hold you close, feeling my need of you once more, but also rediscovering my love for you. You're risking a lot by trying this. You may have only your own pleasure in mind, but I like to think that you're doing this partly for me._

"Don't you think this is a little bit unequal?" _you say._

"Why?" _I mumble, my mouth full of your earlobe._

"You're still fully dressed."

       _Well yes, I suppose you do have a point there._ "So help me correct the situation," _I suggest._

_Your hand finds the zipper of my overalls and pulls it slowly down. Sliding a hand inside, you start to caress my chest. I'm relaxing happily into this when you find a nipple and tweak it. Sadist. You grin at my reaction and do it again. I sit up abruptly. There are things I want to do with you: your skin against mine, my body against yours. These overalls are in the way and you're being too slow by far at removing them. Impatiently, I free my arms from the sleeves and slip the garment down to my hips. You lie still, never taking your eyes off me. I free my legs and remove my pants. It's hard to interpret your expression when you see all of me. I think you're still a little uneasy at what we're doing. I fight back my urge to dive on top of you and take you as I will. I want something more between us than just my satisfaction. I want you to trust me, to enjoy this, to be willing to do it again. That's a lot to ask from a man as suspicious by nature as Kerr Avon._

_I lie back down beside you, deliberately choosing to make us equal. I reach out to touch you on the arm, feel the curve of your shoulder. You permit this, lying still for a moment. I caress the slope of your body, the indentation of the waist, the strength of your hips. You don't move, almost as though you're afraid that that would give you away, but I can feel tension tautening every muscle I touch. There's no expression on your face_ _, but your breathing is accelerating. I run a finger down your spine, and now you move, arching your back as I touch it. When I scratch the small tail bone at the base of the spine, you gasp out loud. You like that, don't you? I do it again, and you pull me close, drawing our bodies together. Your arms are around me, your hands roughly exploring my neck and back. One hand cups a buttock, the other buries itself in my hair and pulls me into a kiss. Kissing you is a whole new world of experience for me. I've kissed before, but never with the strength and power that you invest the act with. Tongues twining, the occasional clash of teeth. That, and the touch of your body along mine is driving me wild._

_I force you over onto your back. I have to finish this, and I have to finish it now. You resist me, but I don't think you mind that much. Does my strength excite you the way yours does me? There's no time for anything fancy - besides I don't think you're ready for me to take your arse. Not this time. I place our cocks side by side. Even just to touch you like that fuels my desire. I'm moving, rubbing alongside you, pressing my erection between our bodies. Now you move too. Together in counterpoint, we feed the demons within us. I can feel myself building towards a climax, but you come first, which surprises me. Your cry fulfils me, and I follow short moments later. Our seed mingles between us: a warm sticky film, binding us together._

_I feel complete._

_I kiss you lightly on the forehead and slide my weight off you. It's ridiculous really. I suddenly feel as though you're a precious fragile flower, and I don't want to crush you. You reach out a languid hand to caress my cheek for an instant, then lie relaxed, lost in whatever dreams you have._

_I prop myself on an elbow and look down at you, wanting to etch every line of your face in my memory. You look at me and smile slightly. Not you your usual smile, laden with overtones - simply a smile welcoming a friend or a lover. I'm happy._

_Then your face changes. Your hand touches my shoulder._ "Blake?" _you say disbelievingly._

"What is it?" _I ask in bewilderment._

 _You scramble off the bed and back away from me._ "I should have known!" _you say with tightly controlled fury._ "Perhaps I did know and just didn't want to believe it."

      "Know what?"  _I ask in desperation. But I think I already know._

_You grab a gun from where you left it with your clothes. I freeze as you point it at me._

"Blake was shot at Star One," _you say savagely. "_ He almost died. But you have no scars, not a trace."

      "Avon,"  _I plead._

"You lied to me! Blake is dead."   _The agony is clear in your voice._

       _I whisper,_  "Yes."

      "Everything you ever said to me was a lie."

       _Most of it. Perhaps there was only one truth in all of it._ "Avon, I love you. I can be Blake for you."

      "Liar!"

       _You laugh harshly. I can see the light of insanity flickering in your eyes. Clonemaster Fen was right. All lives are linked to one another: Blake's,_   _yours, mine._

_Avon, my Avon, will my death solve anything for you?_

_Your finger tightens on the trigger._

      "Avon, no!"


End file.
